waded along on the sandy bottom of the
lake toward the drifting boat.

"If you took a stick you could reach it now," called Flossie.

"I guess I could," Freddie said.

"I'll hand you a stick," Flossie offered, looking for one along the
shore. There were many dead branches, blown from the trees, and she soon
handed Freddie a long one. With it the little boy was able slowly to
pull the boat toward him, and he had soon shoved the "nose," as he
sometimes called the bow, against the bank of the island.

"Now I can get in!" laughed Flossie. "And I won't have to take off my
shoes and stockings either," and into the boat she scrambled.

"Oh!" exclaimed Freddie. "Are you going to get in the boat?"

"I am in," answered his sister. "Aren't you comin' in, too?"

Freddie looked at the boat, at his sister, at the lake, and at his
shoes and stockings on the shore. Then he said:

"Well, it doesn't belong to us--this boat don't."

"I know," said Flossie. "But you pulled it to shore and we can keep it
till somebody comes for it. And we can make-believe have a ride in it.
Momsie won't care as long as it's fast to the shore. Come on, Freddie!"

It seemed all right to Freddie when Flossie said this, especially as the
boat was close against the shore. He put on his shoes and stockings,
drying his feet in the grass, and then he took his seat in the boat
beside his little sister.

"Now we'll play going on a long voyage," she said. "We'll take a trip to
New York and maybe we'll be shipwrecked."

"Like Tommy Todd's father," added Freddie.

"Yep. Just like him," said Flossie, "only make-believe, of course."

"And I'll be captain of the ship, and you can be a sailor," went on
Freddie. "It'll be lots of fun!"

Bert and Nan had gone riding in the goat wagon to the other end of the
island, Mr. Bobbsey was at his office and Mrs. Bobbsey, with Dinah, was
working about Twin Camp, so there was no one to watch Flossie and
Freddie. Mrs. Bobbsey supposed they were playing safely at the lake
shore, and, as a matter of fact, they were on shore, though in the boat.

"I wonder whose it is?" said Freddie, when they had made a make-believe
voyage safely to New York, after having been shipwrecked at
Philadelphia--a place the little twins remembered, as one of their aunts
lived in that city.

"Maybe it's a gypsy boat," said Freddie.

"Or else it's the one the blueberry boy had," added his sister.

"Oh, yes, maybe it is his!" cried Freddie. "An